


choo choo train

by stellark



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Fluff I guess, M/M, Strangers, stupidest title in history of titles, subways? trams?, uh tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 19:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15937184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellark/pseuds/stellark
Summary: when a stranger falls asleep on yuto's shoulder on his commute home, he figures he’ll let it slide, despite the fact that they’ve never spoken. he also figures that maybe he should be a little concerned for how hot the guy’s forehead feels.then he figures that maybe he should be more than a little concerned when the tram halts and the lights flicker off, plunging them into silence and darkness.





	choo choo train

**Author's Note:**

> uhh so i have an angsty honggu with side yuki in the works, pray i finish it, and this is just me trying to practise writing this ship because its pretty new to me. sorry it's so sloppy

Yuto thrives on routine.

His routine, specifically, is made of precisely timed activities and actions that spur him through the day. Wake up at six, breakfast at six-thirty. Usually a granola bar or muffin can suffice, but when he’s got extra time he likes to treat himself to a coffee at the cafe near the train station. He ride the 7:18 AM tram to the bustling streets of Seoul, where he starts work at the publishing house from nine to five. Lunch is a sandwich he’s packed from home, occasionally a cookie from the bakery. At five-fifteen he leaves the office and walk back to the station, catches the 5:27 PM tram home. His evenings are spent quietly, sometimes with a few close friends, sometimes alone. 

Shinwon would call him boring, drunkenly slurring his words and rambling at how put-together Yuto’s life was, and how much he desperately needs to get laid, while he simply sipped his fruit punch like a model designated driver, but Yuto loves his monotonous day to day life. He’s not one for excitement, thank you very much, and his work is enough to sustain his simple lifestyle.

Bit by bit, Kino’s managed to become a part of Yuto’s routine, too.

It was hard to ignore the fact that they have identical transit schedules, and Kino gets on and off at the exact same times and places Yuto does. It was also hard to ignore Kino, not only because his hair happened to be bleached a vibrantly platinum blonde, and stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of raven-haired Koreans, Yuto included. Yuto noticed Kino because the boy was ridiculously handsome, and when he first realized that this was the reason he’d been staring at Kino since the first day the boy boarded, he’d wanted to kick himself.

But it’s undeniable that the hair suits Kino incredibly well, with his slim face and proportionate build. 

Yuto disapproves of anything unordinary, but he secretly approves of Kino.

The only reason he knows the boy’s name is because it’s sewn onto the back of this bomber jacket he wears often, the words white against the soft purple colour. _KINO_ , it reads, and Yuto’s seen the boy wear said jacket more often than not, and he might admit that he’s as fond of it as Kino is.

Kino wasn’t a common name, he realized, but it suited him.

Yuto’s convinced that it’s only because he hates it when his routine isn’t set it stone, that he’s so anxious right now. His lower lip is snagged between his teeth, chewed on unconsciously. His foot bounces in his seat, and his hands fidget, entire body thrumming with restlessness.

There are fifteen seconds until the tram leaves the station, and, for the first time in the two months that Yuto has seen Kino, he’s not here.

It’s not helping that the subway is cramped today, usually empty seats and quiet air filled by the sounds of people, and chatter. There’s only one seat free, and it’s the one next to Yuto, because he’d nonchalantly slung his messenger bag onto it and promptly pretended to be asleep as to not have it taken.

And maybe he’d done it while glaring daggers at a schoolgirl who took the seat he knows is Kino’s, and has never seen anyone there except Kino.

Ten seconds.

Yuto has half a mind to stand up and tell someone to wait, but that’s entirely ridiculous. It’s wholly possible that Kino has somewhere else to be tonight, maybe a gathering with friends or even a date. He’s a good looking guy, Yuto wouldn’t be surprised. After all, he’s never spoken a word to him.

Even so, the thought of Kino on a date with someone else, instead of being here with Yuto like he always is, makes his stomach clench.

Five. Four. Three. Two. O-

The doors are already closing when a purple blur slips past the gap between them, eliciting a few gasps from the passengers. Yuto abandons his sleeping front in favour of watching the familiar denim and sweater clad boy stumble once inside the carriage, grasping onto an overhead bar as the doors shut and the tram starts. 

Yuto’s glad to see him, but at the same time, he’s not.

Kino, whom Yuto has never interacted with, looks terrible. It’s rude to think, Yuto figures, but the boy’s face is pallid, eyes framed by plum circles and rimmed with red. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week, and Yuto’s hands tighten inside his pockets.

He watches as Kino’s exhausted eyes scan the train, his face falling when he realizes that his favourite seat by the window is occupied. Something inside Yuto wants to run over and bodily haul the schoolgirl out of the seat, because that’s _Kino’s seat_ and Yuto will protect it with his life.

He stays put, though. But he nudges his bag off the seat beside him and places it on the floor, keeping his eyes glued to his phone screen.

Kino hesitates when he sees it, and Yuto swears a little bit of colour tints the boy’s cheeks. He takes it hesitantly, sitting on the very edge of the seat, and Yuto forgets how to breathe, warmed by their proximity. 

It’s an awkward, tense ride, Kino clearly uncomfortable, Yuto pretending that he’s not hurt by how he tries to put as much distance as humanly possible between them, and instead focusing intently on his phone. He doesn’t know or understand why Kino’s being so awkward, but he takes it in stride.

He’s a stranger, Yuto reminds himself. He doesn’t really care.

They’re about fifteen minutes into the half hour ride when Kino’s head slumps, and settles directly on Yuto’s shoulder, the boy’s breathing even and slow.

Yuto almost drops his phone.

Hesitantly, as to not disturb him, he tilts his head so he can see in the very edge of his peripheral Kino’s serene face, and he tries not to think about how endearing he looks like this, completely at peace. His lips are parted and he makes these cute little not-quite-snoring sounds, and Yuto’s completely, _utterly_ gone. The rest of the passengers aren’t really paying attention to him, but Yuto’s almost panicking.

If it had been anyone else, he probably would’ve rudely shrugged them off, maybe left them with a sore neck for falling asleep so stupidly on a stranger’s shoulder, but one glance at Kino’s dark undereyes has him stubbornly turning back to his phone, and shifting a little so maybe the boy’s more comfortable.

He inhales a little bit, sits back in his seat, and ignores how Kino’s hair is tickling his ear, and it’s really, really fluffy. And ignores how he kind of wants to pat it.

Five minutes later, while they’re bathed in the darkness of a tunnel, the tram screeches to a halt and the lights flicker off.

There’s a heartbeat of silence, and then there’s pandemonium.

People start surging out of their seats, panicked yells of “What’s going on?” and “What the hell happened?” filling the air. Yuto himself hasn’t quite registered it yet, but he remembers _oh fuck Kino_ and the boy himself is stirring, raising his head off Yuto’s shoulder groggily and chasing the sleep from his eyes with his fingers. He yawns, and it’s _adorable_ , and Yuto wants to kick himself.

Kino pauses for two, three seconds, his hand halfway to his mouth, until he fully realizes what’s going on. But he doesn’t realize what Yuto thinks he has. 

“Oh my-” he propels himself backwards from Yuto at the speed of light, almost ramming into the wall of the tram. His eyes are blown wide with shock, and he’s giving Yuto frantic, terrified stares. If it wasn’t so dark save for the light of Yuto’s almost dead phone, he would’ve sworn that Kino’s cheeks are pink.

“I didn’t mean - I’m so sorry - Oh my _fucking_ god I’m so sorry,” he sputters, his hands wringing and his bottom lip between his teeth, looking like a humiliated child, and it causes something in Yuto’s heart to do a little flip. “I’m just - tired, I guess, and, _fuck_ , I’m really fucking sorry I didn’t mean to do that -”

“It’s alright,” Yuto cuts him off, with a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “You looked sick.”

Kino stares at him, almost ashamed, and Yuto’s wondering if he said something wrong, or offended him. Then Kino flushes, visible even in the bare lighting. 

“I - yeah, I’ve been a bit stressed,” he whispers, and Yuto can tell it’s not quite the truth by the way his eyes flit from contact with Yuto’s own, but he doesn’t press it.

“Go back to sleep,” Yuto urges, the words surprising even him, and Kino, more so, with the way his jaw drops comically.

“I can’t,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep on you like that, I’m sorry.”

Yuto suppresses the tiniest of grins, his eyes only for Kino, with his red face and open gaping mouth and adorable stutter when he’s flustered.

“Suit yourself,” he says nonchalantly, sitting back in his seat and opening his phone again. He makes a point of tipping his shoulder out invitingly, and doesn’t miss how Kino’s eyes flicker to it for the briefest of moments.

 _“Please stay calm,”_ the voice over the intercom blares. _“We’re having some difficulties. We should be moving again soon.”_

Yuto’s only opened another Sudoku game when Kino inches forward hesitantly, a defeated look on his cute - no, Yuto, you _cannot_ think that - face.

“Only if you’re okay with it,” he peeps, and Yuto shrugs. So Kino’s head is warm on his shoulder, and his hair is soft against Yuto’s neck, and he wants to _die inside_ as Kino’s breathing gets deeper and more rhythmic.

The tram starts to move again, except now Yuto’s grinning crazily. He figures that maybe, just maybe, he can get used to this part of his routine.

#

When Kang Hyunggu gets home that night, he finds a post-it note in his pocket. Confused, he unfolds it to reveal messy scrawl and a series of numbers. As he reads it, his smile grows across his face, drowning out the headache that’s been tormenting him all day.

_Kino, call me if you get sick again.  
-Yuto_

#  
When Yuto’s phone dings on its last drop of battery percentage, he smiles slightly and pulls out his phone. 

Illuminating the screen is a blurry selca of a face he’s grown so attached to, and an attached message.

_kino’s my stage name_  
im hyunggu ^^  
im not sick anymore :) but call me anyways? 

**Author's Note:**

> twt: dreamyeo
> 
> thanks for reading! comments and kudos make me mushy and soft :)


End file.
